Barefoot in White (Barefoot Bay Brides) (25 page)

“She ignored you?”

“Most of the time. When she didn’t, we’d fight about my weight, and she’d fling words that stung like ‘disappointment’ and ‘disgusting’ and ‘humiliation.’”

“Didn’t your dad help you?” Surely the man who wrote
My Sweet Ambrosia
for his infant daughter wouldn’t sit back and let this kind of abuse happen.

“In some ways, he did. I was always closer to him, which pissed her off more because she wanted to be like some celebrity mom trotting her perfect offspring through LA and New York. But, of course, she couldn’t show me to anyone, because I was, you know, eww. Fat.”

She let the word fall on the bed with a thud, and Nick wished he could scoop it up and throw it out and take away her pain.

“But to answer your question, there’s something you need to know about my dad. He is wholly and completely and down-to-his-last-cell in love with my mother. That’s not an act. That is the truest, closest, strongest bond between two people I’ve ever seen.”

“Wow. I can’t imagine what it would be like to be raised in an atmosphere of love like that. I told you what I had—the Bickersons.”

She lifted a shoulder. “You know what they say about the grass. Your parents fought, but mine lived in a cocoon where no one else could ever squeeze in. And when push came to shove, Dad chose her side every single time. And me?” She gave him a big smile and surprised him by leaning over and slowly falling on the bed next to him. “I chose chips and chocolate.”

He reached for her without thinking, pulling her closer in a natural move. “So did you have to go to shrinks to figure this all out and get yourself so healthy and in shape?”

“A little. A few. I didn’t really like counseling, though I’ve worked with some trainers who were natural psychologists. Honestly, I didn’t need to dig deep to find the root of my issues. One day, when I was about to turn twenty-six, I’d been at their house, and it had been a particularly ugly blowout. Some magazine was there doing a photo shoot, and they wanted pictures of me, and she…” Willow bit her lip. “She refused to let them take any. I overheard her telling one of the photographers that I had mental issues, and they wanted to keep me out of the media for my own safety.”

Her voice cracked, and he tightened the embrace, wishing he could do anything to take away that heartache.

“But it was the turning point I needed,” she reassured him. “I left the house, stopped for ice cream on the way, and threw the gallon out of my car before I got back to Canyon Country, where I lived in virtual isolation. She was still manipulating me, and all I was doing was suffering with a two-hundred-and-sixty-pound body.”

She cuddled closer, comfortable with her tale now, maybe lost enough in the telling that she forgot they were on a bed side by side with nothing but a bathrobe separating their bodies. Nick forced himself to forget it, too, much more interested in the inside of this complex, damaged woman than the outside right then.

“I started dieting the next day, and I wish I had a story about what an uphill challenge it was, but honestly, losing a hundred and twenty pounds that I didn’t want was easy. And it wasn’t that tough to avoid seeing her all this time, either. Except for that near run-in on the mainland, we just never connect. I’ve seen my dad now and again, but really, not for the last two years, so he doesn’t know how much weight I’ve lost. I like it this way.”

“Don’t you ever want to talk to her? I mean, why not mend the broken fences as adults?”

“No,” she said simply. “If she loved me now because I’m not fat, I think I’d hate her even more for being such a hypocrite.”

“What about your dad? Will you see him?”

Another shrug. “Probably. I kind of miss him, because he’s such a character, but they’re a package deal, and I don’t…I don’t…” Her voice cracked again. “I don’t want to have anything to do with her.”

“What if you get married or have a child or…” It seemed so final, and really sad.

“If I never see her again, that’ll be fine. That’ll make me…happy.” But she sounded anything but.

“Are you happy, Willow?”

She looked up at him, her eyes misty and full of…well, not happiness. Those eyes looked like pain, regret, and a whole lot of wishing things were different. “Right now I am,” she whispered. “Here, with you.”

“C’mere.” He pulled her all the way into him, stroking her arm over the robe. “You don’t have to talk anymore.”

“Mmm.”

She felt leaden in his arms, like she’d just carried a ton of baggage and dumped it in pure exhaustion. They didn’t talk or kiss, but Nick caressed her hair over and over and over until she breathed evenly with sleep.

She was ignoring the truth like he did when he tried to rewrite history. The only difference was, she was helping him face that. Could he help her? When he was sure she’d drifted off, he slipped off the bed, inexplicably energized, and went to the laptop to see if he could unload a little more of his own baggage.

Chapter Twenty-one

During a rehearsal, the bulk of the hard work fell on Ari’s shoulders, and tonight’s walk-through was no different. With the kitchen completely ready for the dinner service and the dining area staged and ready on the sand, Willow was in a holding pattern. She stayed on the fringes of the festivities, observing the rehearsal with Gussie.

“I’d bet a bucket of Bit-O-Honey this marriage won’t last,” Gussie murmured. “All you need to do is look at that groom’s weak chin. No chin, no balls.”

Willow stifled a laugh. “I’m not your gambling partner, Gus, she’s down there.” Willow gestured toward Ari, currently in a deep conversation with the bride, Jill Peyton. “I don’t know who has the balls, but Jill definitely wears the pants in that relationship.”

The wedding party was small, but included the darling “matched set” of Emma and Edward, who were doing their best not to be too bored, but twice little Edward had picked up a seashell and turned to find his mother off on the side to show her his treasure.

Finally, Tessa stepped away and walked across the sand to join Willow and Gussie.

“I think we’ll be better off if he can’t see me,” Tessa said as she approached. “He’s determined to show me every shell he finds.”

“They’re amazingly well-behaved for little children asked to play a part with a bunch of strangers,” Willow said. “Stand here, Tessa. We have a bird’s-eye view, and Gussie’s snark is worth the price of admission.”

“Who can be cynical at a wedding?” Tessa asked, sidling up next to Willow.

“The wedding planners,” Gussie told her.

“Haven’t you heard?” Willow teased. “We’re the most cynical of all.”

“I guess you have seen the dark underbelly of the wedding process,” Tessa said.

“Enough to know we’ll never have one, right, Willow?”

Willow opened her mouth to agree, but inexplicably nothing came out. Why did Gussie cling to that silly pact so much, anyway? Would a wedding be the worst thing in the world to have?

“Willow?” Gussie prodded.

“Yeah, that’s our deal,” she finally said. “We’ve seen enough of these things to know there would only be nightmares ahead.”

Tessa shook her head, a smile on her face. “When I married Ian right on this beach, it was…” She laughed again. “Well, you guys were here.”

“We certainly were,” Gussie said. “I’ll never forget how you fainted.”

“And then your groom disappeared,” Willow added.

“Or how you sent us off in a hot-air balloon ride so we didn’t find out the whole thing was a sham.” Gussie looked at Willow. “Why would we ever be cynical?”

Tessa laughed again. “I had extenuating circumstances.”

“They all do,” Willow assured her. “But we don’t hold that against you.”

“Still, no weddings for us,” Gussie said. “They’re for the family anyway.”

They sure were. And that had been Willow’s driving motivation behind agreeing to the pact. She had no interest in a wedding that would mean a reunion she didn’t really want to have. As the other two women joked and talked, Willow sneaked a peek over her shoulder, able to see part of the patio and the barrel-tile roof of Artemisia.

Not that talk of weddings and families made her think about Nick, or anything. Truth was, everything made her think about him. She’d had a hell of a time concentrating for the few days since she’d last left his villa.

It had been dawn when she’d slipped out after a remarkably sound sleep. Nick had written almost all night, woke her with kisses and coffee at sunrise, and promised her he’d have another five chapters finished very soon.

He’d texted her his progress, and the last she’d heard, he’d completed four chapters. One more and…

“What the hell is she doing here?”

Willow turned to follow Gussie’s stunned gaze, zeroing in on a woman striding along the walkway to the villas, ponytail swinging, a phone to her ear, her freakishly thin model’s body moving at a rapid gait.

“Misty Trew isn’t due for her walk-through for two more weeks,” Gussie said. “The last thing we need is the clash of brides tonight.”

Or the clash of a roommate in Nick’s villa. There went Willow’s five-chapter plans.

“I’ll go see what’s up,” Willow said, stepping away.

“And keep her away from Jill,” Gussie warned. “I hate when brides compare notes.”

Willow gave a quick nod and hustled toward the small bridge, crossing in time to meet up with Misty.

“Well, this is a lovely surprise,” Willow called out, congratulating herself on sounding genuine.

“Willow!” Misty sounded surprised, too. “Hey, I gotta go,” she whispered into the phone, loud enough for Willow to make out her words. “No,
now
. I seriously have to go.” She planted a smile on her face as she tapped the phone and regarded Willow. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“Well, I work here,” Willow reminded her, coming closer.

“Out on the beach on a Friday night?”

“There’s a rehearsal tonight and a wedding tomorrow, so if there’s anything we need to do for you, let me know so we can squeeze it in to the—”

“No, nothing,” she said quickly. “I’m here to see Nick. I have to talk to him. Have you seen much of him? Spent time with him?” Each question sounded a little too interested, like a cross between worry and curiosity.

“A little bit.” Like all night recently. “He’s doing a lot of writing.”

“Good, good.” She continued walking, and Willow fell into step with her.

“Does he know you’re coming?” Willow asked, knowing she sounded just as interested, worried, and curious.

“No, I’m going to surprise him.”

Willow laughed. “You better knock. The man loves nothing more than living and working naked.”

That earned her a sharp look complete with raised eyebrows. “Really.”

“I mean, that first day when I…” She felt her cheeks warm. “He swims a lot and is staying alone, so…”

Misty waved it off. “No worries. I’m not interested in what he has to show me. I just want to quickly talk to him about”—she swallowed and added a cool smile—“something.”

“So you’re not staying tonight?”

She slowed her step. “I’m with friends in Naples, so, no, I’m not staying.” She waited a beat, holding Willow’s gaze. “Are you?”

Willow blinked in surprise. How was she supposed to answer that?

Fortunately, she didn’t have to, because Misty reached out and surprised Willow even more by taking her hand. “Not my business, is it?”

“Actually, no.”

Misty’s smile grew warmer and less shaky. “He seems like a good guy,” she said. “So, if anything gets, you know, weird? Don’t blame him.”

What the holy hell was that supposed to mean? “Weird?”

“Just…” She flicked her fingers as if to brush off the whole discussion. “Nevermind. You’ll understand soon enough.” She gasped softly. “Shit. I didn’t say that.”

Willow just stared at her, her heart sinking. “I’m not following a thing you’re talking about, Misty. Is something going on with you? Problems with your wedding plans? Your brother? What are you trying to tell me?”

She sighed, shaking her head, her expression utterly unreadable. “Nothing at all, except you should know that you are one very lucky girl. And I hope you don’t blow the opportunity when it’s handed to you.”

Willow remained utterly clueless. “The opportunity for…”

“Love.”

Love? Why would Misty say that? Unless… “Misty, is Nick’s being here some kind of setup?”

She gave a nervous laugh. “Well, you might say that, yeah. And I really have to talk to him, so—oh, look.” She pointed to the beach. “The girl with the ever-changing hair is waving for you. They must need you over there.” Her gaze scanned the whole event staging. “That canopy is so pretty.”

“That’s what yours will look like,” Willow said.

“Yeah, nice.” She took a few steps away and gave an awkward wave. “See ya.” Without another word, she continued toward the villa, leaving Willow with no chance to ask for any clarification.

Not only was that bride completely disinterested in weddings—all weddings, including her own—she was hiding something. Something important. Willow watched her slender figure disappear in the direction of Nick’s villa and wondered if somehow she’d be better off not knowing what it was.